


That time reveals

by bladeangel



Series: The After Days [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Also apparently Sarah essen is supposed to be younger than Jim which is just????, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Gen, I watched like 3 episodes of gotham, OC heavy, Sarah Essen is a bamf and deserves to have a long happy life, So I've made her older here because we left canon behind years ago so what's one more thing right?, allusions to sexual harrasment, allusions to the mafia and the mob, ignoring the whole canon at this point, outside pov, sarah doesnt die btw, so ignoring whatever happened to sarah essen in canon, the ages and timeline are all messed up so don't worry too much about it not making sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladeangel/pseuds/bladeangel
Summary: Jim Gordon was always destined for great things. Heroes after all, earned their title through the strength of their deeds.Here is a look at the legacy of one such deed and the impact it had on others. Gotham wasn't the only one bettered by the Commissioners strong heart after all.She never talked too much about where she came from or what she did before turning up in the middle of a rough San-Fran neighbourhood. Nothing but the clothes on her back and her daughter clutched to her heart. But it didn’t take much to guess that wherever she had been, her life had been anything but easy.





	That time reveals

**Author's Note:**

> So after two years here I am with a new instalment of the after days!  
> Thanks so much to HistoryISculture, who commented on both carefully sheated and soldier's silioquay! knowing that someone was reading and liked my work gave me the inspiration to finally finish this piece!  
> This fic is a bit different than the others since its in a outside POV but I couldn't seem to make it work in anyother way. it still feels a little incomeplete to me and I'm not too happy with the ending, i might come back and add another chapter to this one. Maybe Sarah's POV about her first few days/weeks in San-Fran? if anyone's interested in something like that please let me know in the comments
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Gotham, batman or anyother media/ficion mentioned in my fics and i make no profit off of my fics.

Elizabeth was a rising star in the legal world, with a great education and even greater prospects. She’d passed her bar exam with flying colours and was already interviewing for a permanent position at one of the best practices in New York. Unlike her mother and her grandmother before her, Elizabeth grew up in a safe, well off neighbourhood in one of the best parts of the city. Liza’d never been in so much as a traffic accident. Forget having any sort of shady history.

Her Granny Sarah, on the other hand, was a different story. Granny never spoke too much about where she came from or what she did before turning up in the middle of a rough San-Fran neighbourhood. Nothing but the clothes on her back and her daughter clutched to her heart. But it didn’t take much to guess that wherever she had been, her life had been anything but easy. Not that Granny Sarah ever let that slow her down. Granny lived life fearlessly, never putting up with anyone’s bullshit or letting the rumours and gossip bring her down. To this day when Liza went down to visit for Christmas the salty old men and women down the road would talk about the day Granny Sarah turned up, looking as if the hounds of hell themselves were after her.

‘She’s a whore run away with the bastard spawn some John bred into her’, old man Simmons always spat at Liza and her mom.

Old man Simmons ran one of the few affordable grocery stores in the neighbourhood. Which, he seemed to think, meant that he could do whatever he wanted under the threat of banning people from his shop. Still bitter about Granny breaking his wrist after he didn’t take no for an answer, Simmons never missed a chance to share his thoughts on Granny Sarah. Not even to seven year old Liza down for Christmas Dinner at Mrs. Williams place. That hasn’t changed even when faced with 22 year old Elizabeth fresh from New York.

‘ Nah she’s a Don’s daughter, I tell ya!’ Mr. Kykes always argued back. ‘Look at her all violent and swanky! She probably ran away from her Pa when he found out she let some mafiaso have her with child’.

Mr. Kykes worked as a cook at the local Chinese takeout. A self-proclaimed tortured creative. Mr. Kykes read his sad attempts at poetry on every occasion that could be considered appropriate, and many that weren’t. He was thoroughly convinced that his pot induced hallucinations were visions. One vision of a purple gun wielding penguin caused by a particularly bad batch of grass; meant that Granny was a runaway mob princess chased by her father’s men.

‘I’ll tell you what she is, a good woman that’s what! A far better person than any of ya bozos could ever be, our Sarah!’, Mrs. Williams -Granny Sarah’s most vocal defender- was always quick to shut the old men down. Her husband had been killed in a police shooting, a fact that many of the less honourable men in the neighbourhood took to mean that she was ‘fair game’.

A notion that Mrs. Williams had been quick to disabuse them of. Violently.

No one knows what exactly happened between Mrs. Williams, Granny Sarah and Old Smith, except that he still walks with a limp to this day. Ever since the two had got on like a house on fire. ‘As good as two sisters from the womb’ as old lady Mediah used to say.

They would often have dinner together during the holidays, the two women and their families coming together to celebrate over a table decorated with the William’s secret mac and cheese and the Essen’s special turkey stuffing. Little occasions when both families would come together to laugh and smile and appreciate all of the good things in their life. And even now, with Granny Sarah house bound and Mrs. Williams’ own health deteriorating, they had the neighbourhood kids run each other food and drink and called each other at least twice a day.

Granny Sarah as far as Elizabeth was concerned, was one of the strongest women she had ever known. Granny was the one who came all the way down to Liza’s middle school when Mr. Fitzgerald kept on giving her dress code violations and detentions for no reason. Granny was the one who stared down first the principle, then the school board and finally the superintendent until he was sacked for discrimination and sexual harassment.

Granny was the one who held her in her arms and let her cry her heart out afterwards. She was the one who would call every week- while mom was working long shifts- and check up on her, letting little Liza tell her all about how her grades had been improving and how she’d made so many friends now. Granny was Liza’s hero, even after all these years, Granny Sarah was the reason little Liza grew up with the sort of sense of justice that saw a new graduate take on hopeless case after hopeless case and win.

Sarah Essen was her hero and Elizabeth had never, in all the years she had known her, ever seen her grandmother like this. Granny Sarah was crumpled up on her arm chair, crying –great heaving sobs wracking her whole body- glass was scattered all over the floor, orange juice soaking into the decades old carpet. The old flickering TV was set to some news station from out of town, a little ‘G’ in the bottom left corner giving it away. On the screen was some sort of funeral service, the camera centred on a closed casket, surrounded by solemn police officers in full uniform.

Elizabeth was shocked out of her stupor when Granny’s sobs dissolved into coughing. Wet snot filled hacks that travelled through the threadbare carpeting and rattled through Liza’s own chest. Before she realised what was happening, Liza was beside Granny, easing her up from her crumpled state and reaching for a glass of water.

‘Granny?’ Liza began, not quite sure what to do or say.

Granny Sarah, more composed now, sighed ‘I never did tell you anything about our roots did I Liza?’

‘Your Mama and I never really talked about it, you see -oh I don’t doubt she still remembers a lot from her childhood. - you can’t really forget about these sorts of things. It seems about time for you to hear about it. That is, if you want to?’

Liza just stared, why would Granny mention the unvoiced topic that was their family history, now of all times. Especially after so many years of secrecy and avoidance.

‘I’ll take that as a yes then,’ Granny hummed, her lips speckled with spit from her coughing fit.

Granny sipped at the water Elizabeth was still holding up, before she gestured to the TV set and the funeral-of a officer?- with one trembling hand. She looked every single day of her 78 years, and then some.

‘That man, in the coffin was Detective Commissioner James Gorden of the Gotham City Police Department.’ She Gestured, stumbling a little over the full title, as if she was used to saying something else

‘Serial killers, zombies, supervillains; hell! demons and gods too. You name it he’s fought it. In thirty years he did more to clear that city than 55 years of reforms ’ By now the little twitch at the corners of Granny’s lips had transformed into a small pained smile.

‘33 years ago, Detective James Gorden risked his life to smuggle the commissioner of the Gotham city police department – then his commanding officer- and family out of the city. To escape a hit placed on her and her young daughter by the mob. Retaliation for investigating cases that they wanted forgotten’. Granny pulled her gaze from the flower covered coffin and huffed out a laugh at Elizabeth’s rapt expression.

‘Jim was a damn good Detective. And he made an even better Commissioner, but let me tell you something. That boy was a piss poor excuse for a subordinate!’ Granny laughed.

‘Didn’t understand the first thing about following orders,. Couldn't stay out of trouble for his life!’ She said with a fond laugh.

Sarah Essen took her young granddaughters hands into her own worn ones. ‘no matter how much of a fool that man was, you, your Mama and I owe him our lives, little Liza. And he died not even a week ago with no rhyme or reason. And we're gonna to help them find out why’

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on the Jean Racine quote.  
> 'There are no secrets that time does not reveal'


End file.
